


Tag You're It!

by Truerwords



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Game of Tag, Kissing, upping the anty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3765490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truerwords/pseuds/Truerwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't mean to start this messed up game of tag. It just kind of happened. It's not his fault they keep randomly meeting and, you know, kissing... He isn't exactly planning on stopping it either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bus Stop Shenanigans

He has seen her before, probably around campus -- he’s sure of it -- except he can’t quite place her. Bellamy didn’t intend on watching her for this long (and to be honest, at this point, he knows he’s acting like a bit of creeper). It’s been a shit day and for some reason the look on her face as she moves toward the bus stop trying to avoid every puddle (its been raining cats and dogs for hours, only recently stopping) is making him smile. The blue of her eyes is clear even from across the street where he is standing. She makes this adorable pout every time she gets to a puddle and a triumphant smile as soon she passes it without getting wet. 

The blonde is super dressed up, in a white dress no less. He can’t imagine what possessed her to dress that way in this weather, surely she had another option. But, she does look gorgeous. The blonde is so focused on her task, she doesn’t notice the car in the curb lane. Next thing he knows, she is drenched. 

She looks utterly enraged and defeated (and hot, he can kinda see everything, she is wearing white). He can’t even stop the bark of laughter that pops out of his mouth. As soon as it happens, she turns the fire in her eyes on him. Bellamy takes it in stride. Smirk and shrug. This apparently offends her further because she is crossing the street, heading straight for him. 

“What is your problem?” she seethes, pushing her finger into his chest to accent her annoyance.

His grin widens, “Who me? I don’t have a problem. It looks like you do though.” Bellamy pointedly sets his gaze upon her wet body, slowly taking in everything on display. 

She crosses her arms over her chest, raises an eyebrow, puffs out a breath, “Do you make a habit out of ridiculing and accosting strangers?” 

He knows he should be embarrassed or at the very least a little ashamed of the way he's kinda leering at her but her anger just makes her look even more gorgeous and he likes it too much to stop. He's full on, ear to ear, grinning at her while she continues to ramble on about his inappropriate behavior. At this point, Bellamy thinks his lack of response thus far is only riling her up more because she's closed the distance between them and is poking his chest with her finger again. He can't help what he does next. He couldn't stop himself even if he tried. 

As he lowers his head toward her, her blue eyes (God they're so blue) go wide. He grabs her by the waist, pulls her flush against him (wetness be damned) and places his lips firmly upon hers. She squeaks. He smiles against her lips and waits. Then, she responds. Bellamy doesn't hold back any longer. 

She's breathless when he pulls away (he's man enough to admit that he is too) and clearly in a daze. Her expression shouting "what the hell was that?" 

Bellamy only responds with a "See you around, Princess" Then walks away. 

"My name's not princess, asshole. It's Clarke." She shouts toward him. 

He's turns toward her with a smirk, "As much as I love the pet name princess, I prefer Bellamy" then continues on his path. 

As he rounds the corner, he locks eyes with her and winks. 

She snorts... a small smile settling on her lips.


	2. Smudges

She's not dressed up like the last time he saw her. In fact, Clarke looks downright messy. She’s wearing jeans and white t-shirt. Her clothes, arms and hands are covered in black smudges and its equally hilarious and adorable. 

She’s chasing a paper around the quad and looks absolutely manic. The wind is carrying the paper just out of her reach and it just so happens that said paper comes his way, landing on his face. As he’s peeling it away, he hears “Hey that’s mine…” He can hear her footsteps nearing when he removes it completely. 

As soon as their eyes lock, she groans “Oh god.” and rolls her eyes. “Why are bad things always happening to me when I run into you?” 

“I don’t think our last encounter ended badly. I found it rather stimulating, princess.” 

Her cheeks flush at the mention of how their last encounter ended but she recovers quickly. Crossing her arms over her chest and huffing in annoyance. “Ugh.. can I just have my drawing back?” 

Now that she has identified the paper in his hand as a drawing. The black smudges make more sense (it must be charcoal) and he can’t help but look at the paper more closely. She makes a dive for it as he brings it forward to inspect. He immediately pulls away, out of her reach. He must admit its a pretty impressive piece -- a landscape of a forest. Its dark, a little eery but also enchanting. He’s considering keeping it when a thought crosses his mind. 

“What’s this for?” 

“My portfolio. I wanted to add something to it but the wind carried it away before I could finish.” 

“I think its perfect the way it is.”

She bites her bottom lip. It looks like she’s contemplating something and, possibly, trying to stifle a smile. He can’t help but grin at her (it also provides him with more motivation to continue with his plan). He’s not expecting what happens next but he’s also not unhappy with the turn of events. 

Because somehow she’s edged closer to him, so close that they’re almost touching. He’s a little surprised and it must show because she smiles. Its breathtaking (and a bit mischievous?). She’s on her tip toes now, inching even closer. She braces herself against him by placing her hand at the back of his neck and weaving her fingers into his hair. He can feel her breath glide over the skin just below his ear, “How about we make a trade?” Her lips ghost his jawline as she retracts herself and now she’s looking up at him with wide eyes, portraying innocence when she knows exactly what she is fucking doing. 

He swallows hard and stammers out “What… What did you have in mind?” 

“A kiss and, this time, I’ll be fully engaged.” She licks her lips and continues, “ Last time, I was a little unprepared.” 

He’s not quite sure when it happened but his hands have gravitated to her hips and his fingers are grazing the skin between her t-shirt and jeans, pulling her towards himself. He’s hoping its a clear sign that he is agreeable to her terms (in fact, he was planning a similar tactic).

“So a kiss for your drawing. I must have made an impression, huh, princess?” He can’t help the remark. He’s a cocky bastard after all. 

It doesn’t seem to phase her anyway, “No, I just know how to speak asshole.” As she speaks, there lips are almost touching and when she finishes her lips land on his. It starts off chaste, a soft caress of lips. But he pulls her more firmly against him, biting her bottom lip then soothing it with his tongue. She uses the movement to deepen the kiss. She wasn’t lying when she said she would be fully engaged. It’s intoxicating. She’s intoxicating. 

He’s not sure how long they’ve been kissing but, just like last time, they’re both breathless when she pushes him away. It takes him a second to realize that she has somehow slipped the drawing out of his grasp and is holding it triumphantly. 

She walks away this time -- leaving him with a wink and a “It was nice doing business with you.” 

He barks out a laugh and responds, “Likewise, princess.”


	3. Wet

It’s an accident. It really is but, given their history, it's not exactly surprising that their next meeting happens like this. 

They’d collided on the stairs at his friend’s house party, neither one of them noticing the other. He was on his way up, she was on her way down. Clarke’s covered in luke warm beer that just sloshed out of his red solo cup. And to add insult to injury, she’s wearing white. Again. 

She is clearly in shock, the series of events not quite sinking in yet. Bellamy would prefer to have her attention on him, not on the beer or the state of her very see-through shirt which is when he realizes that being an ass has worked so far… 

“You’re right, trouble seems to follow you. And you really need to stop wearing so much white.” 

Where she was gaping like a fish before, her mouth is set in a tight line and her eyes are burning holes through his skull. She is definitely on the verge of killing him. He realizes that in this instance being an ass may not have been the best choice. In a move toward self-preservation, Bellamy raises his hands in surrender and says, “I have an extra shirt upstairs. It’s yours, if you want it.” 

She huffs and looks toward the ceiling, breathing deeply. It seems like she’s trying very hard to calm herself before she does anything rash. That's when he adds, “I can also lead you to a private bathroom and give you a towel so you can clean up.” He feels like this is a pretty good deal given that they’re at a pretty raging party off campus with lots of drunkards that will harass her, and she probably walked here and, at this time of night, it's not exactly warm enough for her to walk home wet. He may be an ass most of the time, but he’s a gentleman. 

She must agree because she sighs and replies with a short “fine” and gives him a signal to lead the way. He moves forward, up the stairwell, as she turns to follow him. 

They’re close to their destination when she says, “Do you live here?” 

“Uh.. No. My friend, Miller, does.” As he answers, he opens the door to Miller’s room, ushers her in and closes the door behind him. He guides her toward the door in the corner and explains, “The bathroom’s behind that door. Let me grab you a towel and shirt.” 

When he returns, he is struck dumb by the sight. She has removed her shirt and is scrubbing it in the sink. Her back is to him but he can see all of her through the mirror and her pastel blue lace bra is doing nothing to hide her features. He’s not sure how long he is staring at her when she notices him. He expects her to try and cover her body but she only raises an eyebrow at him. Without breaking eye-contact, he moves forward and sets the washcloth and t-shirt on the counter next to her. They continue to stare at each other as she wets the washcloth and begins to wipe her body off. 

It doesn’t take long for his resolve to break and he’s standing right behind her. He latches onto her waist and pulls her back flush against his chest. 

“Bellamy, what are you doing?”

The way his name sounds coming from her lips only spurs him on, “This is your fault.” 

She’s watching him carefully when his lips skim her earlobe and he leaves open mouthed kisses down her jaw, neck and across her collarbone. 

She snakes her arm up and weaves her fingers behind his head and into his hair. “No it isn’t. You spilled beer on me.” She takes a hold of his hair and uses it to force his lips onto hers. This kiss only helps to escalate things further. Clarke has turned toward him now and he’s trying to memorize her curves. He’s ready to lift her onto the counter when she detaches her lips from his and ducks under his arm. She’s almost to the door, pulling the t-shirt over her head, before he realizes what’s happening. 

He tries to step forward but he’s so hard…”Shit, Clarke… Wait.” 

Before she leaves the room she turns to him, smiles, says “Bye Bellamy. Thanks for the shirt.” and winks. 

“Fuck.” 

By the time he calms himself down enough that he can actually leave the room without everyone noticing his junk, she’s gone. “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sort of evil.


End file.
